Flickers of faded light swept in a consistent pattern over her vision. A monotonous hum of some heavy machinery, and a whiff of motor oil.
She is reminded of the time her father had a nervous breakdown, right after the market crash. The majority of the family savings was sent into the void, and there was no possibility to feed all eleven children without accruing some serious debt. Foreclosure had seemed inevitable.
It was her luck that she was the first to interact with him when the news hit. She remembered that she wanted to go visit the quaint ice cream shop down the street they lived on, because her sisters and her brother had said it was the best in town. She had earned a wrench to the jaw, when her father had swung around from working on the family car, screaming at her that it wasn't possible.
It hurt, having to see the look on his face when he realized what he'd done. It hurt even more when he still turned his back to her that other fateful day, when he and her mother had crushed her dreams of going to college, of being able to pull herself and the rest of the family from the slump of poverty.
Money ruled the Higashiyama family like a comical tyrant. Its grip was ever constricting, and sucked the life out of anything they did. Trips to the outside world were localized to a walking distance, and anything that was bought was only for necessity. Funerals were looked at as nothing more than a terrible reminder to not die so early on, lest one earn the ire of those still living.
It made the guilty weight in her heart swell, when she'd gotten so excited over receiving that single cone of ice cream, like a gift graced from the heavens, only to waste it because of her own clumsiness. The scolding her mother and father gave her seemed justified when it happened.
Her world was swaying. A seesaw like what they had at the park close to her home. Back and forth, back and forth. How she remembered nearly falling off of it when one of her sisters decided to tip it too fast, eager to steal her spot.
To and fro. To and fro.
Her stomach ached. She found it odd to be experiencing hunger pains, if she was already dead from the vicious encounter with Makima and her puppets. Indeed, there would be nothing left for her to need, now that she was at rest. Wouldn't such pain indicate that she was still alive—?
Kobeni stirred, and groaned. An attempt to open her eyes was met with the harsh glare of fluorescent blue lights, like a column of marching soldiers; the brightness of these lights stunned her as they walked past.
Wait. Lights don't move.
It is now that she realizes she's being carried. Two pairs of arms, each belonging to a heavy-set puppet, each with a suit and tie, were suspending her in this awkward hold. She could not feel the ground below, and handcuffs kept her wrists close together.
I'm still alive?
They turned, down another hallway. Every single door they passed was barred with mechanical locks. It seemed as though it was a prison of sorts, what with how bland and lifeless the scenery was.
Kobeni knew it was pointless to ask them anything. Her head was beginning to throb, and she couldn't taste anything in her mouth besides blood. Come to think of it, the feeling of something dripping down the left side of her face seemed to be the same, from a head-wound. The smell of iron was inescapable.
They reached their apparent destination. An office door stood before them, denoted by the nameplate positioned right beside it. Kobeni couldn't read the words well, not when one of the puppets swung the door open, and they quickly shuffled inside.
The walls were drywall, still grey and having been roughly coated with texturing. The floor was a checkered white-and-black tile, which covered the entirety of the space sans a small shower in the far left corner. Overhead, a single lightbulb hung from the center of the ceiling.
There was a chair, set up in the middle. A simple one, with two wrist-binds strapped along the arms of the wooden furniture.
Panic clutched at her heart, and she began to sob. A couple attempts to wrench herself free earned her a swift punch to the gut, and she was sent to the cold floor, gasping like a fish out of water.
"Stop wasting time, now," a voice commanded, its monotone contrasting with the harsh gulps of air Kobeni was taking, "put her in the chair."
"Ah—ah, ah, please—!"
An arm snaked around her neck, and Kobeni choked on whatever words she had left. The other puppet was taking their time in removing the handcuffs and bounding her arms to the chair. Already was the terror rearing its ugly head, and she writhed under the savage grip of the thrall, begging in jumbled gasps.
Only once the leather straps held her wrists in place did the choking cease, leaving her hacking for some air. These binds were now digging painfully into her flesh, as she tried to tuck her arms in, wanting to curl into herself and shrink away from this nightmare.
A calm pacing of footsteps trekked across the tile to where she sat. Her eyes could make out the blur of someone's legs, adorned in black dress pants, and black dress shoes.
"Look at me, Kobeni."
She shivered. The gaze was intense, a pressure weighing her down, grinding her to dust.
"Look at me."
Kobeni slowly raised her head. Maintaining eye contact was like being caught in a fisherman's hook. One glance, and you can never truly look away. Not unless Makima wanted you to.
"Do you know where we are?" the red head asked.
"n…n-no."
A hint of a smile graced the devil's features. A haughty feeling, a feeling that left Kobeni stumped to know.
"We're in an off-the-grid operations site, just outside of Tokyo," Makima was graceful as she explained, "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, here in this place. It'd be best if you would not hold back anything you might have on your mind."
Kobeni ducked her head back down, not willing to let the rotten devil see her tears. Truth be told, she wished to go back to that ratty apartment she lived in. She never thought of how pleasant it was, to sleep on a rock-hard mattress with a single bed sheet and a pillow full of feathers, but what she wouldn't give to be there, instead of this place.
And damn it, her mouth was dry as a desert.
"Ah…I c-could use some w-water—"
Makima stared at her. A contemplative look was adorned, then she turned to Puppet One, hovering beside her.
"Get some water for us, will you?"
About-facing, the footsteps shuffled off to where Kobeni couldn't see, and Makima commanded her attention once again, "Like I said before, we're going to be here for a while. If I remember correctly, Himeno never properly introduced you to me."
From behind the trembling girl, a pair of hands guided a clutched piece of cloth just over her head, and swiftly brought it down to where it covered her entire face, restraining her. Kobeni could do nothing but cry out as the second puppet took their cue and doused her with a powerful spray of the shower's wand.
Control said nothing as the human girl squirmed in her seat, and with silent satisfaction did she behold the way her petit prize shivered from the vicious power-wash. The cloth was lifted, and with it came the foregoing of pleasantries.
"What is your devil contract, if I may ask?"
"Ah-h, ah—P-p-please—"
The cloth was again brought to bear, and Kobeni cried out in agony. Puppet Two made sure to keep the wand aimed at the head this time around.
"What is your devil contract, Kobeni?"
Sobs. Shuddering, wheezing sobs. Makima waited patiently as the girl mustered the strength, and rasped through chattering teeth, "I-I don't have one, ah—I-I haven't had one, I swear—."
The small smile Control wore was dashed away.
"It's a very disrespectful thing, to lie to someone. Especially to someone who is your superior."
Kobeni said nothing to her defense. Water dripped from the arms of the chair and flowed to the single drain a few steps away.
"Have you anything to say for yourself?" the voice demanded, and the reply was rasped back, "W-why…why am I here?"
Makima inched a single eyebrow up.
"I shouldn't be here," Kobeni rasped again, "I should be dead."
"I told you. You are useful. You have been useful all this time."
Hands clenched at the arms of the chair, "I-I—huh?"
"You are not a fool, Kobeni. You knew what I said before, and you still know it," the devil crouched, so that they were at eye-level, "Your fear. Your very presence, it is so potent with anxiety. It is exactly what any devil desires."
The fear. Man's fear of devils gives those devils all the power necessary to thrive. The very essence of this fear is their lifeblood, the eternal balance between light and dark. Where there must be light, so there must be darkness. And where fear reigns, devils follow in its stead.
Kobeni is merely human, but the fear she holds in her heart—oh, the misery it wrought with every passing moment of living—it may as well be a beacon to devils, hybrids and fiends alike. The contract she has is a double-edged sword, a wound that never be infected nor healed. And the thought of it, the idea of her being the one to cause it all, that it was her doing—it could not be!
It really couldn't; not every person's blood be spilled because of her. But how could that be said of her comrades, the people that Kobeni had interacted with, had been with all this time? What could be said of them, who held more experience to devil hunting, who deserved to lead fulfilling lives, having been butchered in her place?
Their fates were decided because of her. It was her fault. It was always her fault.
Kobeni could see Death smiling down upon her, grinning gleefully at her misery.
Tears would not stop spilling. It was all her fault. She clenched her chattering teeth shut and curled on herself again. It was all her fault.
A hand took her by the chin, and guided her face up, from despair. And from this figurative pit was she pulled, into the snare of golden eyes and a soft smile.
"Don't be sad. Everything will follow its course, just like before. The world turns to the beat of the drum—we've only to march along to its cadence."
The entrance opened up, and a silhouette spoke something. Kobeni could not make them out from her teary vision, nor hear them over her sobs. Whatever was spoken was brief and carried with it a sense of urgency.
Control stood back up, and with her puppets did she take her leave. The devil took the time to switch off the only source of light in the room, and left Kobeni there, shivering in the darkness.
